I was sitting alone in a small conference room with an undersized table. It had three chairs around it matching the one I was sitting in. There wasn’t room for anything else and the quietness of the entire area made the walls seem too close and gave me the feeling they were closing in on me.
I had been allowed to come directly back to this room by the dark haired receptionist at the front desk. She remembered me although I hadn’t been in the ROW office since January of this year. I was still finding it hard to believe it had been that long.
January, I thought. What happened to my resolution to finish the first draft of my book this year? Here it is December. Where did the time go? I was thinking back through all the events that had transpired over the many past months that had eclipsed the moments I needed to pull together more words for my draft. I had been on a steady track and then...
I was abruptly brought out of my thoughts as a familiar, tall, Nordic-looking man opened the door, came in and filled the tiny conference room.
“Nick!” I exclaimed and stood up. I felt a certain jubilation on seeing him again knowing he could help me sort through my dilemma.
He paused a moment and smoothed the front of his suit jacket with a thin hand. “Don’t you mean Eric?” he raised one blond brow as he asked looking down at me.
It was my turn to pause and correct myself. “Yes, Eric,” I nodded. “Oh course! I mean Eric.”
He gave me a one sided grin never releasing the arch of his brow and indicated my chair to allow me to seat myself. I sat down and he slid into the chair next to me. After enduring his careful scrutiny he stated more soberly, “You seem lost.”
I looked up at at his piercing blue eyes and tried to explain. “Time seems to have gotten away from me. I was doing fine and then maybe I got too comfortable or maybe just lazy.”
Eric moved closer to the table to rest his bent elbow on it. He held his chin and cheekbone against his thumb and index finger and said, ‘Go on.”
I gathered my thoughts and started again. “The writing seems to have become easier. I am not struggling endlessly with second guessing myself on every other word. I can write without twelve index cards worth of ideas.” I paused for a moment to try to read his expression and when it didn’t change I went on. “So the writing has changed for the better and it seems to have made me nervous. Am I not allowed to feel a little better to not have to struggle at every turn like before? So am I making myself struggle? To feel like it’s okay? This new ease should be a good thing but since it is different I seem to be fighting myself.”
“So you stopped writing,” he said.
I looked down at my hands and nodded. “Yes. I can’t seem to make the time. I keep putting it off thinking it isn’t as hard, I shrugged, that I’ll get to it.”
“And now you will miss your deadline of the end of the year for your first draft.”
I nodded at my hands again. “Uh huh.” Looking up I said, “But I think I am okay with that. I can't stop the time. So I won’t finish this year but I can still keep going. I will need to do a re-read and take written notes this time so I know what I have covered already. I can firm up my outline since it is too bare bones and I will have a better idea of where I am taking the story and not have to go back and forth and change my ideas midstream. This way I won’t have to figure it out as I go but I will have a better plan to know what information I need to cover and write about next.”
Eric moved his hand down from his face and asked, “When did you start.”
“Start what?” I asked frowning.
“Any of it, he said as he spread out his hands showing me his palms. “Any part of what you just said.”
My eyes got big and I admitted, “I haven’t. I haven’t started any of it.”
He calmly moved the cloth of his jacket sleeve back from his wrist to reveal his watch. He looked at it intently without saying a word.
My eyes must have gotten even bigger as I stammered, “I didn’t mean to take so much of your time, Eric. I know you are busy.” I anxiously went to grab my handbag and stood to let myself out. I wasn't sure I was ready to leave but didn't want to overstay.
He released the cloth of his jacket and smiled at me as he placed his hands down on the table. He used some of my own words back to me as he said, “I know you are busy, but it’s your own time you would be taking. Take some for your writing.”
I looked back at Eric as I stood for a moment. “So I shouldn’t worry about where to start back but just start, shouldn’t I? If I do any of the things I mentioned, I will be making time for it, wouldn’t I?”
Eric stood up and towered over me.
I said, "Once I start, I will fill in the times and plan the time like everything else I do, won't I?"
He smoothed the front of his jacket again and and smiled as he indicated the door as he said, “It’s always a pleasure to make time for you, Theresa. Start making some for your writing.”
TT
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